


One More Day, Willem

by OnlyOneWoman



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon just flew out the window, Crack Ship if ever there was one, DeHowell relationship, Dr. Howell's had enough, Ficlet, Grumpy old pirates, John Silver is a Little Shit, M/M, Matelots, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: DeGroot just got his ear cut off - by Silver - and Dr. Howell's day was already shitty.I don't know, I just kinda like the idea of the only two sensible men in the Walrus crew being grumpy matelots who've had enough.





	One More Day, Willem

”Dr. Howell?”  
” _What_ can I do for you, quartermaster?”  
”Unless you’re not otherwise busy…”  
”Spit it out, Silver. You need me to chop another piece of your leg off again?”  
  
The tired ships surgeon put the newly cleaned tools in his bag with a slam and Silver rolled his eyes.  
  
”Oh, doc… You’re in a good mood.”  
”Well, maybe being covered in blood and a cloud of opium from sunrise to sunset without even a decent amount of rum to drench the stench with, while loosing good men for another failed hunt would make _you_ smile, Mr. Silver. Sorry for not joining in. Now what do you want?”  
”It’s the sailingmaster, doc.”  
”What’s wrong with the old bear?”  
  
Dr. Howell suddenly seemed far less irritated and Silver cleared his throat.  
  
”His ear got in the way for… a sword. My sword, actually.”  
”You cut Willem’s ear off? _My_ Willem?!”  
  
Silver quickly jumped back on his good leg, to get out of reach from Dr. Howell’s last wiped off tool – his bonesaw, which the good doctor now raised as a weapon with a furious look in his eyes. Silver held his arms up.  
  
”Hey-hey-hey, doc, it was an accident! And it’s only… partly off – ow! Ow! Stop it!”  
  
Dr. Howell, known to keep his calm, had simply dropped the deadly tool and instead grabbed Silver’s crutch, pushed the quartermaster over the table and started to give his ass a proper hiding with the tool normally used to make Silver mobile.  
  
”This – is – for – my – Willem’s – ear – you – grinning – slippery…”  
”Dr. Howell?”  
  
The Captain suddenly stood in the doorway and the doc place a finishing swat on Silver’s throbbing ass.  
  
”Slippery - little… _shit!_ ”  
”Dr. Howell!”  
”Yes, Captain?”  
”Would you please give Mr. Silver his crutch back? Not that I doubt he deserved this but…”  
”Excuse me, Captain?!”  
  
Silver was more than affronted but Flint just ignored him and turned to the still angry surgeon.  
  
”Mr. DeGroot’s ear is waiting, doc.”  
  
The surgeon dropped the crutch, grabbed his tools and ran off, leaving Silver with a sore ass and wounded dignity in the Captain’s company. John glared at the man as he got his crutch back and Flint chuckled.  
  
”You need some ointment, Mr. Silver?”  
”With all due respect which is none right now: fuck you, Captain.”  
  
Dr. Howell found the sailingmaster in the sleeping bunk, barking at poor Ben Gunn to stop fussing and the doc sighed from relief. His grumpy old matelot was apparently still alive and well enough to tell helpful mates to fuck off. The surgeon nodded at Gunn, who rolled his eyes and disappeared quicker than coins from the quarters. Dr. Howell sat down by his matelot’s bed with his tools. Willem DeGroot grunted.  
  
”If you start fussing too, John, I’ll cut the other one off.”  
”I never fuss, Willem. You out of all people ought to know that by now. Hold still.”  
  
DeGroot was a tough old bird if ever there was one and he kept mostly quiet while his matelot put his poor ear back in place – mostly – with needle and thread. When Dr. Howell was finally done, he wiped the blood off as much as possible and put a bandaid around the sailingmaster’s head.  
  
”There.”  
  
DeGroot just snorted at his matelot’s visible worry.  
  
”I’m not dead yet, John. Now, get us something decent to eat and drink. And wash up, you reek like a butcher.”  
  
Dr. Howell wiped his hands off, put the needle, thread and blooded cloths back in the pocket on his leather apron and walked back to the sick quarters and the locker where he kept his tools. A knock at the door made him turn around and he discovered the Captain in the doorway. Damn. In the heat of the moment and worry for his matelot’s ear, Dr. Howell had completely forgotten about his treatment of the quartermaster’s – not to mention Captain’s matelot’s – ass.    
  
”A word, doc?”  
”Yes, Captain?”  
”How’s DeGroot’s ear?”  
”Put in it’s place, Captain.”  
”Like Mr. Silver?”  
”Oh… that…”  
”You used his _crutch_?”  
  
Honestly, Dr. Howell didn’t mean to use Silver’s crutch and, exhausted from a long night of work and upon that personal worry, the good doc’s judgement had… slipped a little. Unsure about what the Captain might feel about his lover’s sore ass, Dr. Howell cleared his throat and looked through his locker. He found a small jar and handed it to Flint.  
  
”What’s this?”  
”Ointment, Captain. And I’m…”  
”Sorry, doc? No, you’re not and I should thank you.”  
”Excuse me, Captain?”  
  
Flint grinned.  
  
”Mr. Silver’s temper these last weeks has made me wish to see him kissing the gunner’s daughter a few times and now he’s… unusually pliant so perhaps my poor ears could get some rest tonight. So, while using his crutch may have been a bit… over the top, I’m still grateful, doc.”  
  
Dr. Howell just stared at his Captain and nodded.  
  
”Well… you’re welcome, Captain. And… I should get back to Willem.”  
”Tell him to rest.”  
”Aye, Captain.”  
  
The Captain left and Dr. Howell quickly put the tools in order and hurried back to the bunk where his old matelot was sleeping, thanks to the rum and weariness, despite the noise from the men. The doc carefully spread one of their blankets over the sleeping man, looked through his own chest for one of his books and a bottle of French wine he’d spared to have when he really deserved a treat.  
  
He pulled the drape to shield them from the loud crew, sending a random glare that happened to be catched by Ben Gunn, Joji and Billy, who all three found it suitable to look away not to anger the already pissed off surgeon. Then he took a sip of the French wine, opened his book and made himself comfortable next to the already snoring sailingmaster. The doc sighed and pressed a light kiss on the grey mass of hair.  
  
”One more day, Willem… One more day.”


End file.
